


landslide

by dingletragedy



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ben knows what ian did, mentions of death/grief, oh ALSO “for callum i would” MIGHT be mentioned here !!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: “Can I—” he moves his hand away. “Is it alright if I touch you?”Ben blinks, bewildered. How fervently they’ve touched each other, how urgently and without question. And yet, yet Callum remains the most gentle person he’s ever known.“Yeah,” Ben pleads. “Yes.”Callum’s arms stretch across him and it’s dark but Ben knows the lines of him well enough to feel safe, comforted.or, the weight of the boat crash anniversary crushes ben, and he let’s himself get lost in the comfort of his fiancés arms.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102





	landslide

**Author's Note:**

> hello,,, here’s a fic based on the haunting memories of boat week — i’ve also added aftermath of ben finding out about ian in here because eastenders probably won’t give it us lmao 
> 
> dedicated to @bensdove on tumblr who prompted “stop pretending you’re okay because i know you’re not” - thank you leo ily!!!!
> 
> hope you all enjoy x

The magnitude of it all doesn’t hit Ben until hours later. 

He can’t sleep. His brain won’t shut up, yet each time he attempts to untangle his thoughts nothing bounces back to him but the reflection of the water. 

The shock of the nightmare slides gradually into place against the numbness of his limbs, the pins-and-needles that have gathered at his ankles from hanging off the edge of the bed. 

In his ears there’s a buzz, under his wrist there’s a heavy pulse, in his chest a _thump-thump._

He tries to breathe through it, _the fear,_ but it hurts, and there’s so much spinning around in Ben’s head that he can't focus on one thing. He can feel himself starting to panic, can feel his heart beating against his chest, the buzzing in his ears unrelenting.

Beside him, Callum is a vague shadow in the dark, curled up close, thick sheets tangled up in his legs, face a picture of calm.

Everything is deceptively still. With a shudder of a breath, a creak of his bones, he sits up and loops both arms over his stomach, eyes closed now, waiting for the swells of nausea to pass. If they pass at all. Feet to the floor, he shuffles over to the window. Moonlight is far away, hidden across the room and seeping through the curtains in a stagnant paint spill. 

He catches his reflection in the flash of the window pane, he looks entirely exhausted, under eyes hollowed and dark, hair a mess on his head, curled in on himself. He sags at the sight of himself, swallowing.

Dry mouth, dry lips, sticky tongue caught at the roof of his mouth. He takes a slow sip of water. The edges of his nightmare are almost gone. But the end, the _end_ lingers because it’s an imprint of a memory, the grainy water between his hands and the dirt caught in his eyes. The wreck, the boat upside down and waterlogged, the windows smashed through, and, _God._ Denny—

“Ben?” 

Water spills over his fingers and lands with a splat on the windowsill. He’s lucky the glass doesn’t follow. In the barely there blue light that beams from the window, Callum is ruffled and sleepy, hair a mess, resting heavily on an elbow and peering up at Ben in the dark. 

“You alright?” he asks, voice edged with sleep.

Shaky, Ben sets his glass down on the bedside table. “‘M fine.”

Callum exhales, slow, flops onto his back and rubs his fists over his eyes, knees tenting in the sheets with his feet flat to the mattress. Ben taps his thumb against the glass and looks away, bottom lip bitten between his teeth. Those eyes are enough to make him crack. 

“You sure?” Callum checks, arms lazy and splayed around his head, chin tilted. “Ain’t like you to leave a warm bed without reason.” 

At this distance, Ben can’t read his face, but the quietness around them, the faux calmness, has him drawing closer step by tentative step. Gingerly, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. Callum shifts onto his side and the radiating warmth of his body is a beacon, their eyes brush and linger. _It calms his heart._

“Yeah,” Ben answers, automatic. Callum glances up, unconvinced. There’s a flash of something akin to guilt in Callum’s eyes that makes Ben’s throat swell. 

“When you’re ready to talk,” Callum stars, voice soft. “I’m here. Whether that’s tonight or tomorrow or next week. _Whenever._ ”

As he speaks, Ben curls further and further into himself, and his fingers start to dig into his palms harshly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Callum shuffles forward quickly and pulls Ben’s hands away in shock, rubbing his thumbs over the dents there. “ _Shh,_ you’re alright.”

“I can’t stop. Can’t stop dreaming, Callum,” Ben’s admits eventually, voice a broken, dull thing, shattered, thin and regretful. Full of a weight that feels heavy enough to drag him under the surface.

It feels like such a childish thing to admit, though in his head he knows his fear stems not from the lingering nightmare itself, but from the implications of sharing it aloud. He’s afraid to tell Callum, afraid to put him in this position. _Again_. 

Callum’s face sours, and he shakes his head, lowers his eyes. “The crash?” 

Ben bites at his cheek and wonders how Callum came so quickly to that conclusion. But of course he did, Callum— _God_ , he was trapped; alone, so far away from Ben. Whilst half of Ben’s world was taking its last breath, the other half was fighting for every inhale.

“ _Callum,”_ he says, pained. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t go doing that,” Callum whispers, persistent. “I know exactly where your minds going, and you ain’t gotta do that. You ain’t gotta apologise. I’m alright, honest. I’m dealing with it, with the anniversary, with _everything._ But it’s evident you’re not, and that’s okay, Ben.” 

“Everything’s so _fucked_ _up_.” 

Callum moves closer and Ben closes his eyes, bracing himself for _I’m sorry_ or _why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?_ or the other litany of phrases and pity that all churn through with each other. Instead comes the wavering brush of Callum’s palm, not quite resting on his shoulder, almost unsure if he should touch.

“Can I—” he moves his hand away. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

Ben blinks, bewildered. How fervently they’ve touched each other, how urgently and without question. And yet, yet Callum remains the most gentle person he’s ever known. 

“Yeah,” Ben pleads. “ _Yes_.”

Callum’s arms stretch across him and it’s dark but Ben knows the lines of him well enough to feel safe, _comforted._

“I’m so tired,” he says, ducking his head. Callum’s hand slides up from Ben’s arm to hold the back of his neck. “I have to keep going. I can’t stop. I have to be there for Mum, for Bobby and _everyone_. I can’t think about _him._ I can’t—”

The words won’t come. All he has left inside is a distressed huff of breath, pinching at his heart with sharp spikes.

“Who?” Callum questions, gentle and patient. “Who can’t you think about, Ben?”

“I can’t. _I can’t._ ”

Callum drags him in, face pressed to chest, fabric of his t-shirt damp under Ben’s lashes. He lets himself be held and burrows into the heat of Callum. 

“ _Ben,_ ” Callum says, voice more serious now. “You ain't gotta tell me if you don’t want to. But stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you ain’t.” 

“‘I’m _sorry_ ,” Ben takes in a breath, works his jaw as he glances up and out the window to the grey nothingness. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to deal with this—”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Ian,” Ben says finally. He inhales, rolls his shoulders back and tries again. “It’s Ian.”

“Oh, has your Mum heard from him?” Callum asks, caring and innocent as always. “Because that’s good news, ain’t it?”

Ben looks down at his feet again and shakes his head, it’s feeble and small, he tries not to register that there’s a wetness to his eyes that he’s trying to blink away.

“No.”

“No?” 

“It weren’t an accident,” Ben admits then, meeting Callum’s gaze now. He’s sat up, leant on a palm, and at Ben’s words his face changes. The apology forms around his mouth before the words get out. Ben doesn’t want it. “The crash. Denny. He could’ve— _should’ve_ —if only—”

Ben’s stomach plummets, and for the briefest moment, he feels like he might be sick.

“Ben, you ain’t making any sense,” Callum says, but there’s no heat behind it; only concern. 

“I don’t know how to say it—” Ben admits, meek. He looks away. “I don’t even know how to think about it.”

The sheets rustle soft, and then Callum’s fingers brush between the gaps of Ben’s own. A gentle encouragement. 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

 _The beginning,_ Ben thinks, closing his eyes, feeling Callum’s fingers squeeze tight, the moonlight brushing them over in brand-new silver, the stars out there curled up close, watching, waiting; protecting. _Why don’t you start from the beginning?_

So he does.

He tells Callum everything he _can_ , everything he remembers from that week. Finding Keanu in the flat, the red tie wrapped around his hands like a threat against Ben’s heart, the desperate phone call he’d made to his dad, threatening Sharon and his Mum— _Bobby_. 

He tells Callum about the night on the boat, how he’d known Denny was there; angry and confused and _scared_ . He tells him about the fight, the way the boat had rocked and the cold, _cold_ water. His voice grows tight and panicked as he talks, eyes watering. 

“Ian’s the reason Denny’s dead,” Ben concludes. Callum soothes him as he starts to cry. 

“He locked him in that room,” Ben spits the word, the veins in his neck straining with it. “He locked him in there, and when the time came for him to _step up_ , he just walked away. He left him to die. Like the _coward_ he’s always been.”

“ _Ben,_ ” Callum finally whispers, eyes wet. “I’m sorry. _I’m so sorry.”_

“I miss him so much,” Ben chokes, face crumpled. His breaths are coming up short and almost panicked now, like it’s all flooding him at once. “I thought it was supposed to get easier, but it just hasn’t. The grief, the _guilt_. All of it.”

“It’s not your fault. You do know that, don’t you?” Callum pushes, desperate in the way his eyes search Ben’s. “I can practically see you blaming yourself.”

“Feels like it is,” Ben bites out, rough with the threat of crying. “What does it say about me, hey? One of my brother’s was responsible for the other's death? And I knew nothing. _I did nothing_.”

“But it _weren’t_ your fault,” Callum says. “Like you said—you had no idea. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen that night, Ben. None of us could.”

“If I had just done _something._ ” Ben shakes his head, face buried in the shadows of the night. “If I hadn’t of been so _fucking_ selfish—”

“That’s not fair,” Callum says. “You can’t blame yourself, Ben.”

“But I do,” Ben says, eyes shiny. “For what happened to Denny, _to_ _you_. Everything that happened that week. _I always will._ ”

“You don’t have to keep this in, what you’re feeling, not anymore,” Callum says. “That’s what makes it fester. What makes it hurt. It’ll be okay if you try to let it go.”

“It ain’t that simple,” Ben says. 

“No. It never is. Otherwise it wouldn’t feel like this.”

Ben presses closer and Callum obliges, squeezes him tighter, thumbs digging into the muscle of Ben’s arms. 

“I don’t want to forget him,” Ben whispers. “And if I let it go I’m scared that’s what I’ll do.”

“That ain’t true.”

 _“It is,_ ” Ben insists. Embarrassed, he brings a hand to his eye, palm rubbing at the rough wetness there. “I’ve already forgotten what his voice sounds like. I’ve forgotten his _fucking_ voice but I can still see the moment they brought his body out, and I hate it. Everything else is blurry but I can still see that moment clearer than anything else.”

“ _Ssh_ ,” Callum soothes, but it gets caught somewhere in his throat. “We have a tendency to see and feel in black and white. Pain, joy, all of it. But they can coexist if you let them. Some things are meant to be felt together no matter how different they may be.”

“What d’ya mean?” 

“You can miss Denny, and still enjoy your life, Ben,” Callum says, and yeah, Ben reckons he knows what he’s talking about. “You ain’t gotta feel guilty for that.” 

Ben feels himself tearing up again, because _God_ —he is happy, so happy. The first little droplet slips, melting from the corner of his eye and cradling along the side of his nose. Callum brushes it away with his thumb, palm hovering over Ben’s cheek. 

“He was a terror, an absolute terror, sometimes,” Ben says, a wet laugh. “But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. He just had this thing about wanting to know everything, be everywhere, always running to explore every possibility.”

Callum smiles softly, Ben feels it against his forehead. “Reminds me of his big brother, y’know? Brave. Fearless. _Fierce_. Stood up for what he believed, and wouldn’t let anyone tell him otherwise, not even you.” 

Ben tucks his face further into Callum, and gradually, Callum lets his cheek rest atop Ben’s head, the two of them resting together, silent as they breathe slow and measured.

“I don’t know what I’d have done,” Ben says then, choked. “If I’d have lost you, too.”

“Ben—”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says again. “I know it’s stupid. I know—I know you’re okay. I know that.” He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and the next words are little more than a broken whisper. “I just keep seeing you there, lying still in that warehouse, and—it terrifies me. Losing you. And to have it be my fault—”

“You didn’t lose me, though, and you _won’t,_ ” Callum breathes. “I promise, Ben. Even when I was gone, you never lost me. I spent every second thinking about you, thinking about _our family._ ”

“There’s something else,” Ben says on an exhale. “Something else I need to tell you about that night.” 

“Go on,” Callum whispers. Ben feels his face crumple.

“No, it’s nothing,” Ben says, but that doesn’t really work anymore, the little words, _it’s okay_ and _it’s fine_ and _it’s nothing._ “Forget I said anything.”

 _“_ You know I can’t just do that, Ben,” Callum whispers desperately. Ben’s eyes well up again before he can stop them. 

“I know,” he admits miserably, both palms hiding his face; hiding himself away from the truth he’s about to tell. 

“You can tell me anything,” Callum reassures, a quiet, concerned whisper. “You know that.” 

“I do know,” Ben says, a smile curving over his lips. Callum returns it, but they both soon fade. Ben bites his bottom lip into his mouth, searching Callum eyes.

 _Deep breath_ s, he reminds himself. 

“That night, on the boat, I was only there because that’s where my Dad was, and I needed answers; needed _you_. I thought I could beat it out of Keanu, thinking with my fists, instead of my head.”

The words feel weighted. _Heavy on his heart, rough on his tongue._

“But I was too late, my dad had gotten to him first, and there was no way he was letting him walk out of it alive,” Ben continues as he lets out a tiny sob, these hiccuping things that shake this chest as he talks. He grips Callum’s hands hard. “He was just—just standing over Keanu, gun to his head in true Phil Mitchell style. I panicked, pulled out this gun and I just, I pointed it straight at him. _At my dad.”_

“I was so stuck in this bubble,” Ben continues, closing his eyes. His hands start to shake. “I was full of so much hate, so much hurt and fear, I couldn’t think of anything but finding you. He was mocking me, thought it was all a front, he kept talking, kept saying— _you wouldn’t dare,_ pushing me. But I would Callum, for you I would.” 

“Oh, _Ben_ ,” Callum breathes, voice tight and choked. He knows Callum starts to cry then, even though he isn’t looking at him. Can hear the shaking in his chest, the quick breaths that he tries to smother.

Ben’s stomach plummets, and for the briefest moment, he feels like he might be sick. “I’m so sorry.” 

“ _No!”_ Callum says, shaking his head. “No, don’t you dare apologise.” 

“He couldn’t look me in the eye for days after,” Ben finds the strength to continue. Their noses pressed close. “He didn’t— _couldn’t_ —understand it. Why I’d do that for _you,_ why I’d betray him like that. But he’s the one that betrayed me; I think he knows that now.”

“I had no idea, Ben,” Callum says, and his voice is wet now. _“No idea.”_

“I felt like a _monster,_ ” Ben says, biting. “I felt awful, but there was no choice, Callum. There never is when it comes to you.” 

“You’re wrong,” Callum bites, chest shaking with every breath. “The only _monster,_ was Keanu.”

“It doesn’t feel like it—”

“You’re kind,” Callum interrupts, quick to battle Ben’s demons. “You’re so kind, Ben. You’re observant, and patient, and you don’t even realise how much you draw others in. You’re the best dad in the world to our little Lex, and I know, for sure, that she’ll never feel scared, outcast, or any of those horrible things our own fathers have made us feel, as long as she has you. You care more about the feelings of those you love before your own, before you even think of what any situation might mean for you. What happened— _nearly happened_ —with your dad, is only a testament of how deeply you love, Ben.” 

Ben can only stare at him, tears wobbly where they’re stuck. There’s this intense, steady flush crawling up over his neck, and his fingers curl in the sheets in attempt to settle his beating heart. Callum’s smile is barely there, so gentle.

He doesn’t know what to say, can barely look Callum in the eye right now, his cheeks burning. It’s so quiet between them, moonlight resting on the window sill and peeking through the yellow gaps of the curtain. 

“I think you’re brave, too,” Callum continues, breathed in the space between them. He’s still touching Ben’s face, almost absently now, like he’s forgotten his fingers are dragging gentle through his fringe. “You got through that all on your own; Keanu, Phil, _Dennis,_ losing your hearing—all the while, still searching for me. I can’t imagine how you felt, Ben. That loneliness, it’s isolating and it’s scary. I’m not surprised you broke the way you did. And I ain’t angry at you, either. The opposite, if anything.” 

“Thank you,” Bens ays, sincere.

“Are you going to be alright?” 

Ben lets his head loll back against Callum’s shoulder and he strokes his fingers along the back of Callum’s hands like a whisper. “I think so. I think I need to be. For my Mum, Bobby, _all of them_.” 

“You've got me, y’know? You all have,” Callum says. It’s so quiet, morning light begins to curl around them as the clock keeps ticking, and encases them in a little bubble of heat. “I know you want to be there for you family, of course you do—but they’re my family too now, Ben. And if you need some time, if it becomes too much, I’ll be there for them, as much as they want me to be.” 

“As long as I have you, as long as we’re together, I’ll be okay,” Ben says, and he twists in Callum’s grip so he can look him in the eye. As he’s come to do now, Ben takes a moment to capture this moment in his mind, the exact colour of Callum’s eyes in the light and the little strands of hair that are spiking up on their own accord. 

It’s there now, out in the open. Ben’s heart flutters softly, palm still resting in Callum’s slack fingers. He turns it over and presses a kiss there, presses one to Callum’s shoulder too, working his way up to his lips.

They kiss softly, unhurried. 

When they break away, there’s a tiny smile on Callum’s lips, mirroring Ben’s own. His lashes are gold and his eyes are beacons, his freckles constellations. Ben wants to lay him down gently and run his fingers over them, map them out and give them names.

“Get some rest,” Callum whispers. His thumb brushes Ben’s cheek. Then, softer, distant, “You’re safe here.”

“I love you,” Ben whispers. It’s muffled into Callum’s t-shirt but he knows that Callum hears, feels the intake of his breath, the careful way he lets his arm fall over Ben’s shoulder, pulling him in. _“I love you so much.”_

Callum blinks up at him. They stare at each other for a moment, and Ben just lets it rush over him, lets himself go. He tells himself to stop thinking, to stop worrying, to put himself in the here and now; not yesterday, not last year, not tomorrow. 

Right now he’s got to let himself be happy. _For Denny, if nothing else._

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments massively appreciated <33 thank you for the support as always it means the world ! @sunshinecallum on twitter / @sunshinehighway on tumblr x


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